


I Noticed

by SouthHighSucks (RottenBoneThief)



Category: South Park
Genre: Death and Dying, Friendship, M/M, There's some pot once, Typical Kenny shit, love and friendship - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottenBoneThief/pseuds/SouthHighSucks
Summary: Stan reflects on his feelings about how shitty of friends he and the guys can be to Kenny, especially when it comes to his curse. He's always been the more touchy-feely guy out of the bunch, and someone has to stand up and tell Kenny they miss him when he's gone. Fluffy friendship and support, Stenny if you squint.





	I Noticed

It wasn’t like we didn’t know. Of course we knew. When you’re young though, you put that kind of thing out of your mind. You think it was a nightmare. You think it was a joke. You think maybe you were playing make believe and for a moment, it all felt too real.

It wasn’t until middle school when it really started to hit me. When we were kids, it was almost like a joke. Like a game. Sick, God, that sounds so fuckin’ sick, but it was true. It was a fucking game to all of us, until one time, he didn’t come back. Usually there was no time at all between one day and the next. He’d be dead on Tuesday and then back in class Wednesday, but then, it started to take longer. He would be gone for a week. For two weeks. There was one time he was gone for months. It happened less and less frequently, the dying, I mean. Before it was every other day, but then, it slowed down. Maybe once a week. Maybe once a month. By the time we were in middle school, it was such a rare occurrence, it actually shook me when it happened. Can you imagine? Me, surprised by Kenny dying? Sure, we never talked about it, never voiced it to anyone else, but we all knew. 

Kenny McCormick was a living dead boy. He would die, sometimes horribly and violently, other times unexpectedly and quietly, and then he’d be back. As if nothing happened. We couldn’t keep blocking it out, but just because we knew it happened, didn’t mean we acknowledged it. When you’re young like that, what are you supposed to do? How do you even bring that up? 

You Don’t.

We all handled it differently. Ken didn’t seem to be bothered by it, and everyone willingly accepted that. Kenny died.That was just what happened. That was how it had always been and how it was probably always going to be. Cartman didn’t care. Kyle didn’t care. Nobody seemed to care, yet here I was in middle school, freaking out because an industrial nail gun went off in a home and garden store and my friend was now dead.

I was screaming, crying, covered in blood, completely disgusted with the world, retching and sobbing in the middle of Home Depot, and Kyle and Cartman were both looking at me like I was a fucking loon?! That was the moment I realized something was very wrong with the way we viewed Kenny McCormick. I watched him die. His skin peeling open, his skull cracking and splintering under pressure, his eyes filling wide with pain, and the scream that ripped itself out of his body as he fucking died played in my mind every minute of the day. Every time I closed my eyes, every time I tried to sleep, even with Kenny beside me doing our fucking lab at school later that week, it was all i could think about.

Kenny McCormick felt everything. Kenny McCormick felt death. Knew what it was like to feel a pain I couldn’t even imagine, and every fucking time we turned our fucking backs on him.

We didn’t talk about Kenny. We never talked about Kenny.

I wanted to talk about Kenny.

I wanted to talk to Kenny.

Did he know that we were all aware? That we weren’t oblivious children who thought he was playing superhero? Did he see it in our faces when we were surprised to see him the next day? Did he overhear us wondering out loud if he’d be in class?

We’re in high school now. We’re in high school and Kenny got hit by a train two weeks ago, and I haven’t heard from him since. It’s another couple days before Karen texts’ me to let me know he’s back safe and sound, and my feet are carrying me to his house before I even have time to think. Take the truck, it’ll be faster. But I’m bursting out the door, heading down the sidewalk, making my way to Ken’s on the other side of the tracks. It’s cold, really cold, but I left my jacket on the coat rack so the sting only makes me walk faster.

I cross the Train Tracks, the same ones I watched Kenny get flattened on a few weeks ago, and a shiver runs down my spine. Kenny McCormick is a dead man walking. It takes me no time at all to get to the trailer park and stumble my way up to the door. I don’t bother knocking. I haven’t knocked on Kenny’s door since I was ten years old, I simply make my way into the house, nodding to Stuart who’s putting something away in the fridge. I’ve thought a lot about everything I want to say. I know how Kenny is, honestly. He wouldn’t want me to get deep with him, get philosophical, try to play therapist. That’s not how Ken is. I burst through his bedroom door and he’s sitting on his mattress on the floor, packing his pipe, eyes lighting up when he sees me.

“Stan the Man! Come by just in time!” He’s grinning like an idiot, shaking the sandwich bag of pot he’s got, and I just drop next to him on my knees, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, tight. I feel him stiffen up under my touch and I think for a moment about the fact that Kenny’s never really been a hugger when it comes to me, but right now, I don’t really care.

“Ken. Ken fuck, Kenny please don’t ever fuckin’ think I don’t notice.” My words are sudden and make no sense. My voice cracks and of fucking course it does. I’ve always been such an emotional wreck, and even with my head spinning I can hear Kenny’s nervous laughter.

“What are you babbling about?” I can’t see his eyes, but there’s an edge to his voice and for a moment, I don’t want to keep talking.

I have to keep talking.

“I Noticed.” I more than fucking noticed, and I think he knows that. There’s a pause. There’s a long silence, and then, Kenny’s slowly wrapping his arms around me, holding me tighter than I think I’ve ever felt another guy hold me. I can feel him swallowing the lump in his throat, but he doesn’t trust himself to speak and stays quiet, just pressing his face against my neck for a moment. I hold him as tight as I can, knowing he needs it more than I do, whispering to him over and over that I missed him, that I always miss him, that God fucking damn it, I noticed.

I fucking Noticed.


End file.
